a series of sbi oneshots

Little Butterfly

The sun is rising, Tommy watches the golden rays slowly creep through the window, across the floor. The crow is predictable, Tommy knows that by the time the light reaches the bottom of the door, he'll be there, knocking as though Tommy has any choice about whether he comes in or not.

He does, to a degree. If he tells him to go away, he will listen. For a time at least, it won't be too long before he's knocking again.

The first few days, Tommy had told him to go away again and again, an endless cycle  while he cowered in the back corner of the room. he'd been terrified the crow was going to rip his wings off, or something like that.

There were lots of stories about what crows did to butterflies, none of them ended well for the butterfly. None of the stories have ever said that the crow wanted to adopt the butterfly. but apparently that's what Phil wants.

He comes every morning, without fail, in his hands a breakfast of seeds and nectar. every morning he sits down in the doorway and pushes the tray into the room where Tommy can reach it without getting too close to him.

The first few mornings,  Tommy had refused to touch it. Too afraid that it was poisoned, or some other kind of trick. Phil had allowed him to go without breakfast, he left the tray on the floor, and walked away, but not without warning Tommy that he would be eating even if he had to force him.

Tommy had been so scared, that he ate lunch in quick, desperate mouthfuls, glancing to him every few bites for approval. Phil had smiled at him, soft and warm. honestly, that had been more terrifying than anything else.

A knock comes from the door.

Tommy glances at the sunbeam, Phil is early. he sits up, settling his wings behind him carefully, making sure that the light doesn't catch on  the scales.

"Come in."

The door opens, just like every morning  Phil is standing there, a tray in his hands with a bowl of seeds and a cup of nectar. He smiles at Tommy, just as soft and warm as the first time.

"Good morning, Little Star," Phil says. he lowers himself to the ground, and scoots the  platter across the floor. "Did you sleep all right?"

Tommy nods mutely, carefully lowering himself off the bed and onto the floor.  he carefully leans forward and grasps the edge of the tray, and pulls it closer to himself, further away from Phil.

"Are you keeping warm enough?"  Phil tilts his head, his black wings ruffling. "I only worry because you don't have any feathers to keep you warm, I can get you more blankets if you want, Starlight."

Tommy takes a sip of nectar, it's good, clear and sweet. Better than any he ever got in the valley. If only it didn't come with such a price.

"It was… A little chilly last night," he mutters hesitantly, he spent a lot of the night shivering, he spent every night shivering. It's a lot colder up here on the mountain then it was down in the valley where he's from. But he's been hesitant to ask for a blanket, he still is. He doesn't know what Phil will want in exchange.

So far, all of the deals have been for small things, as strange as they've being. His name was the first thing Phil asked for, and then his favorite food, and his favorite color, little pieces of himself. Things that Tommy doesn't know what he gets out of knowing.

He doesn't know when Phil will want something more than that though.

Like his wings, everyone knows crows like shiny things, and Tommy's Wings glitter and gleam like real gold.

"I'm so sorry Starlight," Phil says, frowning, his brow furrowed with concern. "I'll get you something nice and warm to snuggle up in tonight. just wait right here for a minute."

Tommy  nods, though he doesn't know where he would go. The only thing outside of this room is the rest of Phil's nest, and outside of there is only the cold of the mountain. it had taken a long time for Phil to fly him here, much further than Tommy could fly on his own, especially with how cold it is.

Tommy finishes his breakfast while he waits for Phil. He's never been much of a fan of seeds, but the ones  Phil brings are very good, and Phil frowns if Tommy doesn't finish everything.

He sets the bowl aside just in time to hear Phil coming back down the hallway. The door opens again, without Phil knocking this time. Phil is carrying a massive armload of fur.

Tommy gets warily to his feet, keeping his wings tightly folded to his back. he steps quickly to the side of the room as Phil comes in. His heart flutters in his chest.

Phil hasn't come in the room before. This is the closest they've been since Phil carried him here. He's always stayed in the doorway. Now he's at Tommy's bedside, spreading the fur over the little nest. He adjusts it carefully, arranging the other materials carefully around it.

"There you go Little Star," he says, sounding pleased with himself. "it's mink fur, nice and soft and warm, come see."

Fear floods Tommy's veins, but he doesn't want to disobey, in case it makes Phil angry. He takes a shuddering breath, and slowly walks over to  Phil’s side.

He's reminded just how tall Phil is, how much bigger he is than Tommy. Even with him kneeling, they're almost the same height. Phil turns his head, it's the only part of him that moves, his hands are in his lap, his wings folded around him. Like he's trying not to spook Tommy.

He's smiling again, that gentle warm smile.

Tommy looks away, staring down at the nest. the mink fur is pure white, it must be a winter coat. Tommy has heard about mink, they're dangerous predators, it would have taken at least five warriors to take it down, had it been in the valley. But Phil is so big, and strong, and good at fighting, that Tommy bets he did it on his own.

Slowly, he kneels down, as far away from  Phil as he can be while still being in reach of the nest. He stretches out of hand, hoping that Phil doesn't notice how much it shakes in the air. he's slowly Strokes over the fur. It is soft, softer than anything he's ever felt. 

"Do you like it?"

Tommy hunches his shoulders and nods.

"What do you say, Starlight?"

"Thank you," Tommy rasps.

"Thank you…?”

Tommy takes a shuddering breath. "Thank you, Dad."

Phil's wing rustles as it stretches out over his shoulders. Tommy flinches away from it, hunching in on himself. Phil  thankfully doesn't protest, he just folds his wing back to his side.

"Anything for you. I love you, my little star."